Guarded (A Sope FanFic)
by secretstories98
Summary: Jung Hoseok lives a normal life. Well except for the fact that every night he dreams of the death of a stranger. When this puts him in danger, can Hoseok save himself from ending up like the blonde boy in his dreams?
1. Chapter 1

I squint my eyes at the screen in front of me, the brightness of it stinging my tired eyes. Groaning, I lean back in my chair, the cable to my headphones pulling tight as they reach their limit. I sit back forward, turning the volume of the song up, listening for anything in the beat that I may need to change.

Rubbing my eyes, I will myself to stay awake.

 _I have work to do, I can't just fall aslee-_

The power cuts out, the room around me descending into darkness. Rain splatters against the windows, the wind howling through the trees as a frustrated sigh slips from me.

"What the fuck," I mumble quietly, my hands running across the desk in front of me in search of my phone. I bump into things, crashing sounds around me as they fall from the desk. My hands curl around what feels like my phone, relief washing through me that it hadn't been one of the things I knocked off.

I press the home button, the brightness of the screen momentarily blinding me as it lights up. I brush my finger across the screen, turning the flashlight on. The light illuminates the room, easing my anxiety a bit. I press the power button on the monitor, a frustration working its way through me when it doesn't respond.

"Fuckkk." I groan, throwing my headphones on the desk.

A small movement in the reflection of my monitor catches my attention, my eyes drawn to the screen in front of me. I narrow my eyes, trying to look passed the glare of my light for the source. I squint my eyes more, watching as something moves behind my head.

I whip around in my chair, my phone clutched in my hands, fully expecting to see someone messing with me. Instead I'm met with nothing, breathing a sigh of relief. I turn back around, chuckling quietly.

Pain explodes in the side of my head as something crashes into me, knocking me out of my chair. My phone lands beside me in a clatter, illuminating my face so it shows in the mirror in front of me. Blackness teases at the edges of my vision, my head spinning. Too disoriented to move, I watch as my blonde hair turns red, blood running down my forehead to drip onto the white carpet beneath me.

I hear footsteps behind me, feet becoming visible in the reflection before me. I try to take in their details but my eyes are drawn to the bat beside them, the side smeared with red. It lifts off the ground and I know this is it, this is the end. My vacant eyes are the last thing I see before the pain comes, thankfully it doesn't last long as my consciousness abandons me, leaving me floating in a sea of darkness.

* * *

I shoot up in bed, my eyes wide. I bring my hand up to my head, feeling for any sort of injury. Feeling nothing, I sigh in relief. My eyes dart around the room, comfort filling me at the sight of the familiar green walls of my room.

I place a hand to my chest, breathing in deeply. I exhale. I repeat this process a few times, telling myself the same thing I did any other morning.

"It's just a dream, Hoseok. You don't even know that guy, just relax. You're in your room, you're fine."

When my heart has calmed to a reasonable speed, I throw my blankets off. Standing, a smile spreads across my face, the unpleasantness of the dream already fading to the background. Rummaging through my drawers, I throw on sweatpants and a loose-fitting t-shirt. I walk across the room, flicking the bathroom light on as I enter.

I splash some water on my face, the coolness of it working to wake me up. I run my hands through my hair, the dampness flattening the wild locks into place. Pouting, I twirl one of the brown strands around my finger.

 _I wonder who he was. And why do I keep dreaming about him dying?_

A knock sounds at the door, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Coming!" I yell, turning the faucet off. I hurry through my apartment, my feet clomping quietly against the floor. Disengaging the lock, I pull the door open, a smile spreading across my face.

"Jimin!" I cry, pulling the younger boy in for a hug. I giggle as his silver locks tickle my nose. I spin around with him in my arms, kicking the door shut as I set him down in the entryway.

"You're seriously too hyper this morning, hyung," he giggles, pushing his hair away from his forehead.

"Well one of us has to be," I inform him, walking passed him to the kitchen. "Do you want some breakfast?" I hear the pitter-patter of his feet as he rushes to catch up to me, I giggle at his excitement. "I'll take that as a yes."

We walk into the kitchen, the yellow color scheme working to further boost my mood. I turn to Jimin, a smile spreading across my face. "How do pancakes sound?"

He bounces on his feet, his eyes crinkling as he smiles. "I love pancakes!"

Jimin sits at the table as I dance around the kitchen, humming as I gather everything to make pancakes. "How was it this morning?" he asks quietly. My humming falters, my feet tangling in themselves for a second. I clear my throat, composing myself.

"It was fine," I say, pulling a bowl down from the cupboard. I busy myself with inspecting my reflection in the outside of it as Jimin continues to talk.

"But it was the same dream right?" I nod, knowing he doesn't require a verbal answer. "Hmmm," he hums. I didn't even have to look at him to know that the gears in his head were turning. "How long has this been happening?"

I duck down behind the counter, pulling out a pan. "Three weeks," I admit, standing and moving to the stove.

"The same dream every night for three weeks?" I hum, the small response sufficient for him to continue. "And you're sure you don't know the person in it?"

I sigh, pouring the mixture into the bowl. "I've never seen him in my life, Jimin." I turn on the faucet, measuring out water and placing it with the mix. "Well, except for in the dreams, of course." I mix the batter, working out all the clumps. I smile in triumph, placing some on a pan. "And I would know if I've seen him before," I say, watching as bubbles pop on the top of the pancake.

"How do you know?"

I grab a spatula, flipping the food effortlessly. "Because he's way too attractive. I would definitely remember a face like that," I admit, placing the finished pancake on a plate.

"Don't let Baem hear you say that," Jimin says, chuckling.

I turn towards him, flashing him a smile. "Baem knows he's my one and only, Jimin."

"Yeah, but do you know that you're his?" He says seriously.

My smiles falters, but I push it back into place. "I don't know what you mean," I say, placing three more pancakes on the plate.

"It's not my place, I know." He sighs. "But he treats you badly, Hoseok. You deserve better than him."

I stare at the food in front of me, trying to lose myself in the popping batter bubbles. We had been fine, and then Jimin has gone and popped it all. Just like the heat did to this batter. "Baem and I are meant to be together, Jimin. Sometimes that takes a little work."

"I don't think-"

"Can we just eat, please?" I ask, carrying the steaming stack of pancakes over to the table. Jimin nods, his eyes flickering between me and the food, his stomach warring with his brain. I know which one wins as he stabs a cake, plopping it down onto his plate. I watch as he digs in, a smile pulling at my cheeks.

"Admit it," I giggle. "This is why you come over here in the mornings and not to Taehyung's."

Jimin rolls his eyes. "That and because Jungkook is always over there," he complains, giving me a good luck at his chewed up food.

"Gross, Jimin. Don't talk with your mouth full," I chastise, shoving a bite of food into my mouth.

Jimin makes a scene of swallowing, opening his mouth ot show me it was empty. "They're just too much sometimes, you know? 5 minutes with them and I feel like I'm watching the world's sappiest rom-com."

"Give them a break, Jimin," I mumble around a mouthful of pancake, bits flying out of my mouth.

"Now who's being gross!" Jimin laughs, flicking a crumb at me. I laugh, happiness flooding me as Jimin and I spend the rest of breakfast bickering.

Too soon, the wall on the clock chimes, eliciting a groan from both of us. I push back my chair, grabbing our plates. I dump them in the sink, turning to Jimin. "Time to go to work," I say. Jimin stands, his chair scraping against the floor.

"I love our job, Hoseok," Jimin says, joining me as I walk out of the kitchen. "But sometimes I'd rather stay home, you know?"

I chuckle, bending down to slip on my shoes. "I get it, Jimin. Plus today is Tuesday, which means we get the "Brat Squad"."

Jimin throws his head back, groaning. "They never listen to anything we say," he whines. "They don't even care about learning to dance. They just come to socialize."

"I know, I know." I pat his back before slinging my bag over my shoulder. He follows me out the door, waiting patiently as I lock it. We walk down the hallway and slip out the exit, merging with the groups of people on the sidewalk as I continue our conversation. "But they're parents pay good money. So I guess we'll just have to deal with it," I say, shrugging.

"That's easy for you to say," he grumbles, crossing his arms. "They don't make fun of you."

I snort. "I wouldn't exactly call them saying your cheeks are chubby is an insult." I pinch said cheeks, Jimin squeals, smacking my hand away. "It's just the truth," I laugh.

"Hmph," Jimin pouts, his bottom lips poking out.

We wade through a sea of people at an intersection, waiting in the front for it to give us the "all-clear" to walk. I tap my foot impatiently, dread filling me.

"I don't feel so good," I say, a nagging feeling poking at the back of my brain.

"What do you mean?" Jimin asks uninterested, his eyes glued to his phone.

"I-I don't know," I admit, bouncing from one foot to the other. WIth each second, the weight in my stomach feels heavier. "I just feel like something's wrong."

Jimin laughs at me, his fingers tapping against his phone screen. "You're being paranoid, hyung. It's sunny, no clouds in sight, and we had the best pancakes ever for breakfast. What could go wrong?"

I try to believe Jimin's words, but my body is fighting me, the dread in my stomach begging me to go home. "I don't know Ji-"

Something hits my back, making me lose my footing. I fall into the street, pain blazing in my palms as they scrape against the road. A horn blares and I look up. Everything seems to move in slow motion as I watch the car comes towards me, too close for me to get out of the way. I try to scurry away, but a pain in my ankle has my legs giving out, leaving me laying in the middle of the street. My heart thunders in my chest as I watch the wheels approach me, fear filling me as I realize there's nothing I can do now.

The world comes back to me as the car hits me, pain so excruciating filling me that I'm not sure where it even comes from. It just hits me from all angles, battering me over and over. Jimin's frantic voice screaming my name is the last thing I hear before darkness swallows me.


	2. Chapter 2

I sit on a bench and although the sun shines on me, I don't feel the heat. To be honest, I don't feel much of anything, not even the bench under me. I'm not sure where I am, or why I'm here, but I find that I don't care that much.

A butterfly flits passed my face, its bright wings brushing my cheek. I smile, reaching out my hand for it, but it flies on, leaving me behind. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, letting the sun shine on my face.

"Hoseok."

I hear the voice, but it sounds far away so I pay it no mind. After all, I have no idea who this Hoseok person is. So I just keep my eyes shut, listening to the world around me.

"Hoseok."

Something stirs in my chest at the voice. Maybe familiarity? My mind wars with itself, the majority wanting to ignore the nagging feeling and go back to our blissful ignorance. But there's a little part that refuses to let me do that. Unable to slip back into my previous state of mind, I open my eyes slowly, giving them a chance to adjust. I sit forward, my gaze landing on him.

He stands before, a frown tugging his lips down. His blonde hair is disheveled, as if he just woke up. My eyes single in on the color, my eyebrows furrowing.

 _Where's the red?_

I shake my head, unsure of what came over me. Why would I expect there to be red in his hair? Obviously it was blonde, it would be crazy to just put a splotch of red in it. But still the strange feeling gnaws at me, twisting my stomach in knots. I feel like I recognize him, but I'm not sure where from.

He stares at me, the intensity in his gaze unsettling. I stare back, unable to bring myself to break the eye contact. Sighing, he closes his eyes, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, further mussing it. Reopening his eyes, he takes in the park around him, before settling back on me. "Hoseok," he repeats, his voice deep. I can't help thinking that he sounds like he's tired. Is that how he always sounded or did he just need a nap?

He stares at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to answer him. I just tilt my head to the side, confused. "Are you talking to me?" I ask, surprised by the sound of my own voice. I hadn't needed to speak at all, and, before now, I wasn't even sure that I knew how to.

The boy groans, dropping to sit on the ground in front of me, his legs crossed over one another. He looks up to me, his gaze stirring something in me. Suddenly, the image of those eyes, vacant and staring lifelessly fills my head. My brows furrow, uncertainty filling me.

 _What the-?_

Noticing the change in my demeanor, his expression changes, mirroring my own. "Are you okay?"

I want to answer him, to tell him that I'm fine. But his voice sends more images flitting into my brain, each one flashing for a second before being replaced by another: computer monitors, darkness, legs, baseball bat, blonde hair blossoming with red.

Pain flares in the side of my head and I cry out, reaching up to grip at my hair. I grit my eyes shut, trying to breathe through the pain, but even that seems impossible right now. Suddenly the pain stops as hands grip my shoulders. I open my eyes to see him standing there, his eyes watching me with concern. "Are you okay, Hoseok?" Something clicks into place.

 _Hoseok-that's me. I'm Hoseok._

"I, uh, I'm fine now," I say meekly, my voice shaky. He sighs, relieved, and drops back to his spot on the ground. I watch as he plucks the grass, briefly twirling in his fingers before releasing it to get another. It was such a normal, human thing to do. But, actually watching him sitting in front of me, playing with the grass, filled me with unease because- "You're dead," I point out.

He freezes, his eyes moving up to mine lazily. He quirks an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Wow, what an observation," he says, rolling his eyes at me.

 _I'm having a full blown panic attack and he thinks right now is the time to joke?_

My mouth drops, shock overtaking me. "Th-This is serious!" I exclaim, throwing my hands up. He just watches me, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"Yeah, yeah. How do you even know that I'm dead?"

My mouth opens and closes, my mind searching for something to say. In the end, I decide to just go with the truth. What did I care if he thinks I'm crazy anyway? "Because I've seen it." His gaze on me never wavers and my stomach does flips, my anxiety rising. "I've seen how you die."

He nods, his eyes dropping to the ground. "You're right." He grabs a fistful of grass, ripping it from the ground. "I am dead."

I should be scared, I know I should. That was the rational response to this kind of situation right? Instead, I found myself immensely curious about the man sitting in front of me. "What's your name?"

"Min Yoongi," he says quietly, his focus on the grass in his hands.

How many times have I woken up, my heart racing, and wondered what his name was? Now I finally knew and the moment felt oddly anti-climatic. Laughs shake me, Yoongi watching me suspiciously. "What's so funny?" he asks, his eyes narrowing.

I wipe my eyes, taking deep breaths to calm myself. "Nothing, nothing. I just never imagined that I would be here." I look around me, at the empty park that surrounded us, at the sun that hadn't moved from it's place high in the sky. "Where is "here" anyway?"

Yoongi lays back, his arms out to his side, his eyes strained on the sky. "I'm not entirely sure, to be honest." He folds his hands beneath his head, his eyes closing. I watch him for a moment, distracted by the sight of his dark lashes splayed across his pale cheeks.

"Am I dead? Is that why you're here?"

He peaks one eye open. "You're not dead," he assures me, avoiding the second half of my question. I open my mouth to call him out on it, but he speaks, cutting my train of thought off. "If I had to give this place a name, it'd be 'The In-Between'." He chuckles. "Sounds cheesy doesn't it?"

"It could be worse," I sigh, my eyes drawn to the pale sliver of skin poking out from beneath his white shirt. It gleams under the sun, like untouched snow, begging me to reach out and touch it. I squeeze my fists tight, fighting the urge. "Did you come to The In-Between when you-" I gulp, unsure of whether or not to continue. Luckily, Yoongi takes pity on me.

"When I died?" He sits up in one fluid movement. "Are you asking me if I came here when I died?" I nod, nibbling on my bottom lip. I swear his eyes glance there, but it happens so fast that I'm not sure. "No, I didn't come here."

"Where did you go then?"

"No where."

"No where?"

He groans, rubbing his hands down his face. "I'm not sure where I went, Hoseok. It definitely wasn't here though. It wasn't as-" He looks around the landscape. "bright as this place. It was pitch black, all around me."

It feels awkward, to be talking to him about what happened when he died. But I'm the one who asked the question, so I can't exactly back out of it now. "Was it scary?"

"No," he says, shaking his head. "It wasn't scary. I didn't feel anything, really."

I nod slowly, remembering how I had felt earlier: blissful, unaware. "What about after that? What happened then? How did you get here?" I ask the questions rapidly, not giving him any time to answer any of them before spitting out the next one. Yoongi looks away, his lips thinning as he presses them together. I watch him patiently, waiting for him to answer. After a few moments, though, it becomes apparent that he's not going to say anything. "Okayyy then," I huff, a little offended at his silence. I decide to move to a safer subject. "Why do you call it The In-Between?"

A bit of the tension in Yoongi's shoulders disappear, his body slouching as he relaxes. "Because it's like you're in between states," he explains. "Not fully dead, but not fully alive either."

My stomach drops at his words. I hadn't really thought about what had gotten me here, but now I found it strange that I didn't remember anything at all. "If I'm not d-dead, but not alive either, what exactly am I?"

"Sleeping."

"I'm sleeping?"

"Yeah." His eyes stare into my own, so far that I'm sure he can see everything about me. My fears, my insecurities, my soul. "You're sleeping, Hoseok. But it's time to wake up."

"What do you mean?"

The world around us flickers, fading away at the edges bit by bit, as if someone was taking an eraser and working their way in. Pretty soon it was just Yoongi and I left, nothingness surrounding us. I look around, panic rising in me. "What's going on?"

Yoongi stands, towering over where I still sit on where the bench used to be, somehow not falling even with nothing under me. "It's time to wake up, Hoseok," he repeats. His form flickers in and out of existence. Starting from his feet, his body starts to fade out, becoming transparent before disappearing completely.

Yoongi watches stoically as his body disappears out from under him, not a bit of panic showing on his face. That was okay, though. Because I was feeling enough to cover for the both of us. "Yoongi?" I stand and he gives me a reassuring smile, opening his mouth to speak. I reach out to him, my hand passing through empty space as the final remainders of him fade away, leaving only his words behind.

"Wake up, Hoseok."


	3. Chapter 3

With lashes that feel like lead, I open my eyes. LEDs buzz above me, the brightness of them stinging my unadjusted eyes. I squeeze my eyes shut, a groan working its way out of me-just to be muffled by something in my throat.

My eyes shoot open, panic filling me. I peer down my nose and although my vision is fuzzy, I swear I see something sticking out of my mouth.

 _Is-Is that a tube?_

My heart races, an insistent beeping noise to my left only working to increase my panic-ridden confusion. I try to scream for help, but it comes out as a muffled jumble of noises. The beeping increases, steadily rising in volume, all sorts of alarms sounding through the room, assaulting my senses.

I hear a sliding noise and the stomping of feet as someone rushes to my side. The room falls silent as the alarms die off and, if I didn't have a tube down my throat, I would sigh with relief. A man's face hovers above me, a smile pulling at his lips. "Well hello there!" He says cheerily before his face disappears, the hum of a motor replacing his voice as my bed sits up, giving me my first real look at my surroundings.

Pink curtains wave by the windows, a soft breeze filtering in from outside. My eyes travel around the room, taking in the blue walls, the checkered chair pushed up against the wall, and they land on the man standing by my bed, his green scrubs easing a bit of my nerves.

"Mmmph," I grumble, the tube in my throat keeping me from forming any actual words.

The takes a step closer to me, pity in his blue eyes. "Don't try to talk. I'll get the doctor and he'll get that tube out of your throat, okay?" I nod my head, trying my best to stay calm, but that's pretty hard to do when you have a tube down your throat. I drop my head back, letting it sink into the pillow behind me, and count the specks on the ceiling.

When I reach 68, the door slides open. I raise my head to look, my neck aching with the small movement, the man I recognize as my nurse enters, followed by a man that can't be much older than me, the white coat he wears identifying him as a doctor. They approach me slowly, each one taking a side of the bed.

"Hello, Hoseok," the doctor greets, giving me a dimpled smile. "My name in Dr. Kim. Are you ready to get that tube out?" I nod, eager to be able to speak again. He smiles at my enthusiasm. "Great. Just lay back and relax, okay?" I do as instructed, resuming my counting as Dr. Kim and the nurse work on freeing me. "Okay, Hoseok. We're going to pull it out now, okay? Just stay calm." I take a deep breath in through my nose, trying to calm my nerves. I feel a tugging sensation, a gag escaping me as they pull the tube free of my throat. I cough weakly, my throat aching with each one.

The door slides open once again and my eyes meet Jimin's red-rimmed ones. Shock flits over his features: eyes going wide, mouth dropping. A grin spread across his face, his whole demeanor changing as he looks at me. "Hoseok!" He runs across the room, gathering me in his arms. My body aches from the hold, but I don't want to pull away. I lift my hand, which takes considerable effort, and pat his back.

"Hi Chim." The words come out rapsy, my words cracking in places. Dr. Kim reaches out to me, a cup of water in his hand.

"Drink, Hoseok. Your throat is probably dry, right?" Jimin releases me, but doesn't move form his spot by the bed, so I can grab the water, my hand shaking as I lift it to my mouth. I take a drink, a sigh leaving me as the water eases the fire in my throat. When I finish the glass, I place the cup back into Dr. Kim's waiting hand and he gives me a smile, his dimples once again popping out. "Feeling better?"

"Much," I say, my voice coming out much stronger.

He throws the cup away, moving to stand back by my bed. He looks between Jimin and I, his features darkening. "What do you remember, Hoseok?" I tilt my head in confusion, unsure of what he means.

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," I admit. Jimin rushes forward, grabbing my hand.

"Is that bad?" His eyes dart between me and the doctor, his brows furrowing in worry. "Should he remember?"

"It's fairly common for trauma victims not to remember what happened to them," Dr. Kim states, his eyes traveling over the chart in his hand. "It's the brain's way of protecting itself. And from what I see here-" He flips through the pages. "-this is something that you are probably better off not remembering."

"Would someone care to explain all this to me?" I growl, frustration filling me.

Dr. Kim nods slowly, his glasses sliding down his nose. "You were in an accident, Hoseok." I watch him, waiting for him to go one, but he says nothing. He just watches me, searching for any kind of reaction to what he just said.

"I gathered that much," I say grumpily, crossing my arms over my chest. "Explain more to me."

If Dr. Kim is bothered by my demanding tone, he's very good at hiding it. I'm not surprised, he is a doctor after all. He probably deals with cranky patients every day. "You were hit by a car. You came in with very serious injuries." Once again he flips through the chart, reading off the list of injuries. "Your spleen had ruptured from the initial impact, so we had to remove it. Your arm was broken. Most of the damage was done to your legs, though. It seems when the car hit you, it ran over both of your legs, greatly damaging your knees and breaking your tibias." He pulls out two x-rays, placing them on a lightbox. "This one-" he points to the one on the left "-is from when you arrived. As you can see here," his fingers trace down the picture, outlining the breaks in my kneecaps, "your knee caps were severely broken. And your tibias," his finger travels down farther, where splinter of bones were missing. Jimin gasps at the sight, but I don't look at him. My eyes are focused on the x-rays, dread pooling in my stomach. "Your tibias were broken as well. If you look here," Dr. Kim points to the second set of x-rays, "You'll see that we placed pins in your knees to fix the breaks. We also placed a cast on your legs." And just then it dawns on me.

 _If my arms and legs are broken, where are the casts?_

I pat myself down frantically, feeling no casts. There is only my skin, and small puckered scars on my legs and stomach. Panic sets in, the beeping form earlier returning as my heart rate skyrockets. Jimin calls my name, but it sounds like he's calling me from underwater. I feel like I'm drowning, my mind circling in on itself. I glance around the room frantically, and for a moment I swear I see a blur of white in the corner, but I blink and it's gone, just a figment of my panic-driven imagination.

Hands settle on my shoulders, my gaze settling on Dr. Kim as he stares at me worriedly. "Breathe, Hoseok." I do as instructed, sucking in shuddering breaths, willing my mind to settle down. After a while, I can feel myself relaxing, the beeping in the room quieting down. When I've gotten control of myself, Dr. Kim smiles at me. "I'm sure you've realized that you don't have any casts, and even the incision from your splenectomy is healed." He pauses, as if giving me time to process what he's said, to let me come to my own conclusion. When he sees that I'm still confused, he continues, speaking to me softly. "You were in a coma, Hoseok."

"A coma?"

"You were asleep for two months," Jimin cuts in, reminding me of his presence. I turn towards him, my heart breaking when I see him standing there, the effects of my condition so clear on his face. His face was thinner, his bloodshot eyes surrounded by dark circles.

"Oh, Chim," I say softly, reaching my hand out to him. "You didn't have to stay here. You could've left me."

His gaze locks on mine and I almost flinch at the anger in them. "How dare you say that?" He grabs my hand, gripping tightly. "How could I just leave you in here?" He shakes his head, his brown hair whipping around him. "I could never do that."

I nod, emotion choking me. "Thank you." He just nods, his eyes glassy.

"Well," Dr. Kim's voice interrupts the moment. "Since you're awake, that means we can talk about your life after you get out of here."

"What do you mean?"

"While you should be able to do most things, there are certain limitations. For instance," he points to my legs, "you knees won't be able to handle vigorous activities for a while. And they may not be as flexible as they once were."

My heart drops, dread pooling in my stomach. "C-Can I dance?" His face drops at my question and when his eyes meet mine, I can see the pity in them. I know what his answer is, I can see it all over his face and in the way he won't answer me, but I can't accept it. I need to hear him say it. "Can I still dance?" My yell fills the room, stinging my own ears.

"You can dance," he takes a deep breath, steeling himself to deliver the bad news. "But probably not like you used to. In fact, I would advise against it." Jimin pats me on the back in an attempt to reassure me, but I don't want his help right now. He can still dance, I can't. All my life, dance was all I ever wanted, now I can't do it anymore. Dr. Kim watches me, taking in my reaction. "Jimin would you mind stepping outside? I just need a moment with Hoseok." I can feel Jimin hesitating beside me, but eventually he gives in. His footsteps fade, disappearing as the door slides shut.

"I know this seems like the end of the world t-"

"What would you know?" I sink down in bed, bitterness overwhelming me.

"It'll get better, I promise." He pats my arm awkwardly, as if unsure of how to comfort me. "Would you like me to send Jimin home for the night?" I nod slowly, self-pity washing through me. Jimin will probably be upset, but if he comes in, he'll just try to cheer me up. I'd like to wallow for a while longer. "Okay. I'll come check on you later." I look back up to the ceiling, listening as his steps fade into the distance. I lay there, waiting for Jimin come barging in, demanding that he won't leave. He must've understood that I need to be alone right now, because that never happens. Instead I lay there, quiet surrounding me. My eyes drift shut, sleep lingering at the edge of my mind.

"Who even wants to dance anyway?"

Startled by the voice, my eyes shoot open. I sit up, my stomach aching a bit with the movement. I glance around the room, shadows darkening everything. I take deep breaths, desperate to keep my heart rate from rising. "Who's there?" I call to the shadows, my voice shaking. Silence greets me, and I take a deep breath, relief flooding me until-

"Who are you even talking to?"

A small scream escapes me as I jump, my head whipping in the direction of the voice. My throat closes off as I'm met with the sight of familiar brown eyes. He sits in a chair to my right, his pale skin glowing like a beacon in the darkness. The same eyes that I have stared into night after night for weeks, now watch me; a mischievous glint replacing the lifeless look that I'm used to seeing.

I'm bombarded with memories: an empty park, a park bench, the pale boy in front of me laying in the grass, wearing the same tired expression as he does right now. I suck in a breath, my shoulders shuddering.

My whisper fills the room like a gunshot, everything seeming to freeze as his name leaves my lips.

"Yoongi."


	4. Chapter 4

Silence descends on the room, thick with tension. Yoongi watches me, his eyes no longer holding their mischievous glint. Now he just looks confused, as if he has no idea what's going on. He watches me, his head tilting to the side slightly. His eyes go wide, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. He jumps out of the chair quickly, taking a small step towards me.

"C-Can you see me?" He raises a hand, pointing a slender finger at me. At a loss for words, I just nod. He steps back quickly, his legs phasing into the chair behind him. My breath catches in my throat as I look at where his legs should be, the limbs instead lost inside a sea of polka dot fabric. He doesn't seem concerned though, instead he stares at me, his brows quirked. "You're not supposed to be able to see me," he states, his eyes once again studying me.

I blink slowly, hoping that it would work to take away this illusion. But yet there he still stands, legs lost in a chair, his lips turned down in a confused pout. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my heart. "I can see that much," I reply cooly. His eyes snap to mine, surprise written on his features, as if he had forgotten that I could actually speak. I watch him and he does the same, both of us taking this time to evaluate the other. After a few moments, a small breaks out across my face. "How are you, Yoongi?"

He balks at the question, his mouth dropping open. He takes a small step forward, the front of his leg poking out of the chair. "Aren't you scared?" He leans forward slightly, anxious to hear the answer.

"Why would I be scared of you?"

Scratching the back of his neck, his eyes dart around the room. When they land back on me, they're no longer confused, instead, they're intrigued. "I'm a ghost, Hoseok. Wouldn't that scare anyone?"

I think about his words for a moment, trying to think the best way to pose my answer. I raise my eyes, meeting his curious stare. "Are you here to hurt me?"

He freezes, my question taking him by surprise. "No, I'm not here to hurt you," he answers, shaking his head slowly.

Holding my hand out to him, I smile. "Well then it's nice to see you again, Yoongi." His eyes dart to my hand, but he doesn't step forward to take it and, after a few seconds, I drop it back onto the bed. I keep the smile plastered on my face and he watches me skeptically. "I saw you in my coma." He nods quickly. "Why?" I ask, curious.

He stares at me for a few moments, and I start to think that he's not going to answer me. So when he speaks, it startles me slightly. "You needed to wake up," he states nonchalantly.

"What do you mean?" He doesn't give me an answer, he just shrugs his shoulders. I want to groan at the casual response, to demand that I have a right to answers, but I let it go. Honestly at this moment I'm just too exhausted to muster up the energy I know it would take to fight him on it. My mouth opens wide, a loud yawn escaping me.

"You're tired," he observes, his eyes watching me impassively.

"It's crazy, right?" I laugh, leaning my head back into the pillow. "I just slept for two months, but I'm still tired." I turn my head, the pillow case tickling my nose as I look at the pale boy beside me. "Hey, Yoongi?"

"Yeah?"

"It didn't feel like two months," I admit. I turn back, staring up at the speckled ceiling. "In there with you, I mean. It only felt like a few minutes."

"Time passes differently there," Yoongi says, his deep voice lulling me closer to sleep. My eyes drift shut as I listen to him speak. "What feels like minutes there could have been years here, Hoseok. You're lucky that it was only two months." He sighs. "You're lucky you're alive at all. You almost died," he says quietly.

"But I didn't," I say tiredly.

"It shouldn't have happened at all." The bitter tone of his voice catches my attention, pulling me back from the edge of sleep. I crack my eyes open and look at him, my heart clenching at the sight of him. He stares at the ground, his blonde hair falling over his eyes, his shoulders slumped as if he's carrying the weight of the world on them.

"Yoongi," I call out to him. He raises his head slowly, his eyes sad. I raise my hand, beckoning him to come closer. He doesn't move for a second and I can see him pondering whether or not he should give in to my request. He sighs, taking a few steps toward me until he's an arm's distance away. "What's wrong?" I ask, my voice soft.

His gaze softens, his eyes sweeping over me. "This shouldn't have happened to you." He drops down beside me, his knees hitting the tile but making no sound. He gazes up at me, his eyes pleading. "I'm so sorry, Hoseok. Please forgive me."

I tilt my head, confused. "Why are you sorry, Yoongi?" I try to give him a comforting smile, hoping to put him at ease. "I don't remember what happened to me, but it was an accident. It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, an accident," he says quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor. He looks so sad in this moment, crouched beside my bed with his head down, that I feel the urge to comfort him. To take any of his pain away. I reach my hand out to pat his head, but I chicken out at the last second, pulling the limb back to my side.

"I don't know what you think you need forgiven for, Yoongi, but it doesn't matter." I turn my head, letting my eyes slide shut as I settle back into the pillow. "In the end only one thing matters."

"And what is that?"

"You're the only reason I woke up from the coma," I admit, remembering the blissful feeling I had in that abandoned park. "If not for you showing up, I would've stayed there. Just sleeping forever." I can feel my body growing weightless, sleep pulling me into its depths. Knowing that I need to comfort Yoongi more, I try to fight it, but I can feel myself slipping away as I speak. "You came for me, Yoongi."

I begin to drift off, my body relaxing as sleep claims me once again. As I sink farther and farther into my exhaustion, I hear Yoongi speak, his quiet whisper the last thing I hear before I slip under, my consciousness leaving me.

"I'll always come for you, Hoseok."


	5. Chapter 5

_**~2 Weeks Later~**_

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jimin asks for the millionth time. He hovers around me, brows furrowed, his arms ready to catch me at the slightest stumble.

"I'm fine, Chim," I giggle, shooing him away. "I need to get all my stuff together and you hovering really isn't helping." I give him a pointed look, a pout forming on his lips. He hesitates for a moment, but takes two small steps back. It wasn't much more space, but it was better than nothing. I turn back to the bed and resume stuffing my things into the bag.

"Are you excited to be going home?"

"Mhm," I hum, distracted by a blur of movement in the corner. My eyes dart to it, catching Yoongi stretching, his mouth wide as he yawns. I want to laugh at him, but I hold back. I know Jimin can't see him, and I'm pretty sure even he would think I'm crazy if I told him about it.

Yoongi leans back, stumbling slightly as he phases through the wall. He shoots up, his eyes wide in surprise, gaze darting around. I can't stop the chuckle that leaves me, the look on his face sending me over the edge. Hearing my laugh, Yoongi's gaze lands on me, his eyes narrowing. I shouldn't laugh, it'll just make him grumpy, but I can't help it. Sometimes he's just so bad at being a ghost. I think back to a few days ago, when he explained it a bit to me.

* * *

"How do you do that?"

Yoongi's eyes open slowly, his tired gaze landing on me. "Do what?"

I gesture to the chair below him, his legs pulled up so he was curled in a ball on top of it. His head rests on the arm, his blonde hair a stark contrast against the red fabric. "If you're a ghost, how do you sit on the chair? Shouldn't you be falling through the floor?"

He rolls his eyes at me before closing them again. "If that was how things worked, wouldn't I just keep falling through the Earth?"

"It was just a question," I grumble, my fingers playing with a frayed string on my pajamas. I had had Jimin bring them to me earlier that week, the familiarity of them easing my nerves about still being in the hospital.

Yoongi cracks an eye open, watching me for a moment. He sighs, readjusting so he was sitting up. He runs a hand through his hair, and for a moment I'm lost, my mind consumed with thoughts of what his hair would feel like.

 _Would it be soft? Would I feel it at all? Would he-_

"I can control it," he says, his deep voice breaking me out of my thoughts.

"What?"

"The phasing." He rolls his eyes, leaning his head on his hand, pinky slightly bent away from the rest. It was a strange habit, but I found it adorable. "I can control the phasing so I don't go through things."

"How?"

"If I focus, I can keep my body from going through."

I lean towards him, intrigued. "So you can actually touch things?"

"Well I can't move them, or anything like that." He pauses for a moment, his lips forming a pout. "Not that I've tried."

"What about people? Can you touch people?"

His face drops. "No, I can't." He shakes his head slowly, a bitter laugh leaving him. "If I could, do you honestly think that I would've allowed you to be hit by that car?" He looks up, his eyes meeting mine, and in them I see the guilt that always seems to be there, just lurking in the background.

"Yoo-"

* * *

"Hoseok?"

Jimin's voice breaks me out of the memory, my mind once again pulled back into reality. His face fills my vision, worry etched into his features. I can see Yoongi lingering in the background, closer than he was before, concern in his eyes.

"I'm fine," I assure, trying to ease both of their worries. Jimin looks at me skeptically, not believing my words. I sigh, pushing him back a bit. "I'm fine, Chim. I swear." I make a crossing motion over my heart and Jimin's features soften. That had been our version of a pinky promise since we were kids, so he knows I'm serious.

He takes a few steps back, giving me my personal space back. "You zoned out there."

"Yeah." I place the last of my things into the bag, squishing them down so I have room to zip it up. "I was just thinking about something," I say, fighting with the zipper as it keeps getting stuck. Jimin chuckles as he watches me struggle. He steps forward, pushing my hands aside and zipping the bag for me. I glare at him. "I could've gotten that."

"Yeah, yeah," he says, throwing the bag over his shoulder. He holds his hand out to me, his eyes bright. "Are you ready to go home?"

I stalk passed him, throwing Yoongi a small smile as I ignore Jimin. The blonde just chuckles, falling into step beside me. Jimin walks beside me, oblivious to the new addition to our conversation.

"You should let him help you," Yoongi says quietly. I want to tell him that he doesn't have to be quiet. I'm the only one who can hear im after all. Instead, I just roll my eyes, eliciting a small laugh from him. "Stubborn."

"You're one to talk," I whisper. Yoongi laughs, my heart skipping a few beats.

"Did you say something?"

I turn towards Jimin, the ghost beside me still chuckling. Plastering a smile on my face, I feign ignorance. "I didn't say anything. Did you?" He gives me a sideways glance, but just sighs, picking up his pace a bit so I fall behind him. I slow my own pace, letting more distance grow between us. I glare at Yoongi, whose chuckles had finally died off. "You're going to get me committed," I whisper. I had meant the sentence to sound chastising, but the giggles that broke their way out of me ruined that.

Yoongi leans in closer. "Not if you don't get caught," he whispers in my ear. My mind reels at his closeness, my instincts telling me to reach out, to touch him. I clench my fist, fighting the urge. Since I woke up two weeks ago, a lot of my time had been spent with Jimin. But when I wasn't with Jimin, I was with Yoongi. And sometimes Yoongi lingered in the background even while Jimin was there, his presence a constant distraction. We didn't talk much, as Yoongi wasn't much of a talker, but I had grown to enjoy his company. As we follow behind Jimin, the streets empty around us, I think that maybe I had grown to enjoy his company a bit too much.

In the quiet of my hospital room, reality was easy to ignore. I could pretend that everything wasn't completely messed up. That I hadn't been dreaming of his death for weeks, that he wasn't a ghost, that this wasn't all just a fantasy.

But here, in the cool hallway of my apartment building, reality comes crashing back in. It stands in front of me, blue eyes watching me cooly, arms crossed as he stands outside my door. I freeze, my heart dropping. Yoongi stops beside me, his gaze darting worriedly between me and the newcomer. Jimin shifts, his body half-blocking me from the gaze of my boyfriend. I force a smile on my face, my voice coming out shaky as I greet him.

"Baem."


	6. Chapter 6

Baem doesn't acknowledge my greeting, just keeps his eyes trained on Jimin, who still stands in front of me protectively. "Hoseok," he greets me, his eyes narrowing as he continues to look at Jimin. "Jimin." He spits out the name as if it would burn his tongue. "It's always so nice to see you."

I hear Jimin scoff. If I could see his face, I imagine he'd be grimacing right now. "I wish I could say the same thing, Baem. But unfortunately," he crosses his arms in front of him "that would be a lie and I'm not a liar."

"Do you know this guy?"

At the sudden sound of Yoongi's voice in my ear, I jump, bumping into Jimin. He gives me a quick look before returning his glare to Baem, who just watches us with disdain. "You can leave now, Jimin." He smirks, making a shooing motion with his hand. "I can take care of Hoseok from here on. After all he is my boyfriend." He gives Jimin a pointed look. "Not yours."

"Guess that answers that question.." I hear Yoongi mumble behind me.

"And why anyone would date a douche like you, I'll never understand," Jimin says, distracting me from Yoongi. "Where were you when he was in the hospital?" Jimin throws his hands up in the air. "Boyfriend's should be there when their loved one is hurt, shouldn't they? Then where were you?"

"Jimin, that's enough," I say quietly, reaching forward to rest my hand on his shoulder.

He turns towards me, his eyes filled with sympathy. "No, Hoseok. It's not enough." He turns away, his shoulder tensing under my touch. "He was asleep for 2 months, Baem. And you didn't come at all." My heart drops at Jimin's words. I raise my gaze to Baem's, silently begging him to refute Jimin's words. There was no way he wouldn't have come, right? I know he's not always the nicest, but he wouldn't abandon me in my time of need. Right?

"Baem?" I ask quietly, getting his attention. His disinterested gaze meeting my own as he shrugs his shoulders.

"What would you want me to do, Hoseok? Sit by you every second, beg you to wake up? I can't just drop everything, you know that." He crosses his arms, his stare daring me to disagree with him.

I drop my gaze to the floor, busying myself with looking at the scuffs on my shoes. "I guess you're right," I say weakly.

Baem laughs. "See Jimin? Hoseok understands." I watch as his feet approach us, stopping in front of Jimin. I bring my eyes back up to see Baem towering over Jimin. "You're free to go now."

Jimin sighs and slides the bag off of his shoulder, turning to hand it to me as Baem watches in smug satisfaction. Jimin's pitying gaze meets mine. He leans in, gently resting the bag on my shoulder. "You can't always let him walk all over you," he whispers before brushing passed me. I turn, watching him stomp away.

Baem's arms wrap around my waist, pulling me back into his chest. He rests his chin on top of my head. "You should stop hanging out with him, babe. He's a total loser." His laughter shakes me, his chin digging into my scalp.

I step out of his embrace. Turning towards him, I level him with a glare. "That 'loser' is my best friend, Baem." I place my hands on my hips, using all the attitude I can muster. "And from where I stand, you're the only loser I see." His features darken, his eyes narrowing to slits. I brush passed him, going to my door.

He grabs my wrist, stopping me. I try to pull my hand free, but he keeps a hold of me. Pulling me back to him, he leans down so we're eye to eye, his brown hair tickling my forehead. I glance around, losing my earlier courage in the presence of Baem's anger. I meet Yoongi's angry glare, his expression dark as he watches Baem and I. Feeling my stare on him, Yoongi's gaze softens as he looks at me.

A cry escapes my throat as Baem squeezes my wrist, bringing my attention back to him. "That sounded a lot like an insult, Hoseok," he says, talking to me quietly like I'm a child. "You wouldn't be insulting me would you? Not after I went out of my way to come here?" He gives me a smile that sends a chill down my spine.

"N-No, Baem. I would never insult you," I scramble out, trying to appease his anger.

He leans back, a bit of my anxiety disappearing as he puts space between us. "Great." A smile spreads across his lips, bright despite the darkness I know is lurking behind it. "Now I have to get going, but I'll see you later okay?"

"Yeah, I'll, um, see you later."

I freeze as he leans down, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. "I love you," he says. My wrist stings as he finally releases it, all the blood rushing back to where it should be.

"I love you too," I say quietly, plastering a smile on my face. He throws me one last smile before turning, not looking back once as he walks away. I stay rooted in place, watching him leave. When he finally disappears, my body starts to shake. I turn, quickly walking to my door as Yoongi rushes to my side, his worried voice filling my ears.

"Hoseok? What was that?"

I ignore him, instead I try to focus on getting my key in the lock, which proves to be a huge problem as my hands are shaking too much.

"Are you really dating that jerk?"

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. It takes a few breaths, but eventually my nerves settle enough that I can slide the key in. I open the door, slipping through it, and slam it behind me. Once I'm safely inside, my legs give out and I slide down the door, coming to sit on the floor.

Yoongi phases through the door, grumbling. "Just close the door on me why-" When he doesn't see me, he looks around, worry etched on his face. I don't know why he would be so worried, this is my house. What would be a danger to me here? When his eyes finally take in my position, curled up on the floor, he sighs. He sinks down in front of me, his gaze watching me warmly. We sit like that for a while, both of us just watching one another, but eventually Yoongi speaks. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Oh I don't know." He rolls his eyes at me. "Maybe about the fact that you're in a relationship with an abusive asshole."

"Baem?" I shake my head. "He's not abusive."

"The scene I just witnessed outside begs to differ."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," I scoff, turning my head away.

"Pretty sure I do." He shakes his head, his blonde locks falling to hide his eyes from me. "But if you're not ready to see it yet-" he shrugs "-then there's nothing I can do about it."

"Good, so if you're do-"

"Except show you what a boyfriend is really supposed to be like." He pushes his hair out of the way, his eyes connecting with mine, a blush rising in my cheeks at the intensity in their dark depths.

My mouth drops open, my mind floundering for a sufficient response, but all that comes out is:

"What?"

As soon as I speak the word, I want to hide from my own stupidity. There are millions of words in the world and the only thing I could come up with to say is "What"? I cover my face, mortified.

When Yoongi's soft chuckles reach my ears, I part my fingers, peeking at him through the little gaps. His cheeks are dusted with red, his mouth spread in the biggest smile, the kind that shows his gums. My heart races, my blush deepening at the sight of him. Yoongi always seemed so mysterious and that's alluring all in its own, but at these moments when he lets down his walls, that's when I find him the most captivating.

I drop my hands from my face, a pout forming on my lips. "What are you laughing at?" I ask, pretending to be upset. It's hard to considering that all I want to do is reach out and pinch his cheeks.

"Nothing, nothing." He says, waving his hand in dismissal. His gaze meets mine, his eyes sparkling in amusement. "I declare my intention to woo you, and all you can say is "What?" That's hilarious," he snickers.

"We-well it won't work anyway!" I sputter, crossing my arms in front of me. I break our eye contact, looking away in defiance. "As if you could woo me."

"And why do you say that?"

"Because Baem is my soulmate. There's no way another man could influence me," I say. I'm not sure whether I'm trying to convince myself or him, I'm not sure it worked either way.

Yoongi's eyes narrow, his earlier playfulness replaced by his usually serious demeanor. "Trust me when I say this Hoseok." He leans forward until his face is only a few inches from mine. My breath hitches, my heart racing. My mind fills with images of leaning forward, of just placing my lips on his, but I push them away. I just said that no other man could influence me, didn't I? So where's all my willpower now that temptation is staring me in the face, his eyes boring into mine? "Baem's not your soulmate," Yoongi says. I blink slowly, as I come back to reality.

"What do you mean by that, Yoongi?" I ask, the words less than a whisper. "How do you know?" I reach forward, trying to grab his shoulders, but my hands go right through him. I stare at them silently, as if it's their fault that I can't touch him. Yoongi's eyes drop to my hands, a sad look in his eyes. "What did you mean by that?" I ask again.

"Nothing."

I grit my teeth, my fists clenching. "Don't lie to me, Yoongi."

"I'm not lying." His eyes dart away, his shoulders slumping under a weight that only he can feel. "It's just not the right time to tell you." He brings his eyes back to me, the yearning in them leaving me feeling like someone just punched me in the stomach.

Yoongi stiffens, his mouth pressing into a thin line. "I have to go," he says, his voice hard.

"What?"

"Goodnight, Hoseok."

"Wait!" I yell, but it's already too late. Yoongi's already fading away, the only thing left of him is his face, but even that's transparent enough that I can see through it.

"Don't worry," He says, his voice fading in and out. "I'll be back before you know it." He throws me one last gummy smile, then fades out of existence.

I draw my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I hug my knees, the room suddenly feeling colder without Yoongi here. I think about him, the strange ghost that just suddenly popped into my life, and his words from earlier.

" _Trust me when I say this, Hoseok. Baem's not your soulmate."_

I pout, setting my chin on my knees, and stare off into nowhere, my mind filled with brown eyes and blonde hair.

"What did you mean by that, Yoongi?"


	7. Chapter 7

I open my eyes to black walls all around me, the color seeming to swallow everything in the space, making it seem small and endless all at the same time. I drop to the floor, crossing my legs in front of me, much like I did when I came here before, back when I first died. And just like the first time I came here, a swarm of voices all merging into one fill the room, echoing all around me.

"Min Yoongi."

"Wassup guys?" I ask, raising my hand in a mock greeting. I'm not sure whether they can see it or not, but it makes me feel better to do it. As if making a joke of the situation would make it less severe.

"We do not have time for your silly chit chat, Yoongi. We have called you here to talk about your assignment."

"You mean Hoseok?"

"Guardian Min Yoongi, assigned to case number 3993-21894, Jung Hoseok." I roll my eyes as they recite the speil, already bored. I had never seen the need for all this formality. To me, he isn't just a case number, and I bet it's that way for other Guardian's. At least, if there are other ones beside me. I'd never met another Guardian before, but there has to be more right? If I was in charge of all this, I definitely wouldn't choose me to be the first one. I play with a loose string on my jacket, twirling the white fabric around my finger as they continue their speech. "Mission start: five weeks ago. Number of incidents while on watch: one, occurring two weeks ago. What have you to say about this incident, Min Yoongi?"

I whip my head up, unprepared for the question. "Are you talking to me?" Silence answers me, and I take that as a queue to do as they asked. "Two weeks ago, Hoseok was injured when he fell into the street, resulting in him being hit by a car," I explain, trying to keep the images of that day out of my mind, but they came regardless. Hoseok had been happily chatting with his friend, but I had a feeling that something bad was going to happen, and I tried to relay that feeling to him. He had mentioned to his friend that he felt like something was wrong, and so I assumed it was working. And then all of sudden he was in the road, staring as a car barrelled towards him, and I just stood by, wishing that I could reach out and pull him back. But it doesn't work that way and I had never cursed my status as a Guardian more than in that moment.

"Do you believe that this was a freak accident?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you believe that Hoseok merely stumbled into the street?"

"I mean, yeah." I narrow my eyes, sitting up straighter. "Are you telling me that this wasn't an accident?" I ask, my voice as hard as ice.

"No, Min Yoongi, it was not an accident."

I jump to my feet, throwing my hands in the air. "I've been with him for five weeks and you're just now telling me that someone's trying to kill him?" I couldn't believe that they didn't tell me this the first time I came here, when they first told me that I was to be Hoseok's Guardian. "Don't you think that's something you should tell me in the beginning?"

"We do not have to explain ourselves to you, Min Yoongi."

"No, of course not. It's not like I'm trying to keep Hoseok alive or anything," I say, rolling my eyes.

"You would be wise to watch your tone with us, boy. You may be a Guardian, but that is an honor we have bestowed upon you and we can take it away just as quickly."

"What if I don't want to be a Guardian? It's not like I chose this path anyway."

"You would leave Hoseok defenseless? Abandon him to suffer for something that isn't his fault?"

Their words cause me to freeze, my earlier attitude forgotten. "What do you mean?" I tilt my head up, looking into the endless blackness above me. "What is he suffering for? Whose fault is it?"

"There are things we can't tell you yet, Yoongi. But they will become apparent in time."

"Always in time," I groan. I take a deep breath, steadying myself. "Okay, fine then. I'll be patient. Can I go now? I should be with Hoseok."

"Hoseok is safe, he will not require you for the rest of the night."

"Well what if I just want to go back?" I look around the room, a sneer on my face. "It's sure as hell way better than here."

"Hoseok's incident is not the only reason we called you here, Yoongi."

I perk up, their words interesting me. "Oh really?"

"Do not think we haven't noticed the closeness between you and the boy." I freeze. "You would be wise to remember what we told you in the beginning."

"I remember," I say quietly.

And boy did I remember. 

* * *

**2 Months and 5 Weeks Ago**

I bolt up, my breath leaving me in a ragged gasp. I take in the blackness around me, confused. I had just been in my studio, working, and then-

And then I died.

When the realization hits me I, surprisingly, don't panic. Instead, I'm filled with a strange feeling of peace. I never had a strong desire to live anyway, so being dead didn't exactly hit me as some sort of tragedy. My life had been hard: my parents disowned me, I had been broke for a while, barely having enough money to eat. The only downside was that I had just gotten a job in a recording studio as a producer.

"Welcome, Min Yoongi," A voice booms from the ceiling. Wait-not just one voice. Multiple voices, layered over until they sound like one voice. I listen, intrigued by the strange voice. "Min Yoongi, age 25. Time of death: 2 AM. Cause of death: Murdered." I stand silent. "Does this news not bother you, Min Yoongi?" The voice asks, almost sounding curious.

"What's the point of being upset about it?" I ask, shrugging my shoulders. "So I was murdered. So what? Everyone dies."

"I wonder if you would keep that view if you knew that your soulmate was going to die soon as well."

"I don't have a soulmate."

"Everyone has a soulmate, Yoongi. And had you not been murdered, you would have met yours."

"And tell me, Oh Great One, just who is my soulmate?" I ask sarcastically. I didn't give a crap about some stranger's fate, I barely even cared about my own.

"His name is Jung Hoseok."

My chest tightens at the name, a strange feeling filling me. Was it nostalgia? Longing? I'm not sure, but I know that I don't like that it's caused by some stranger. I swallow, trying to push the feelings away. "That name means nothing to me," I say, trying to hide my discomfort.

"You cannot hide your feelings from us, young one. We are well accustomed to the soul's response to it's other half here."

"My soul?"

"Since your body has perished, all that is left if your soul, free to pass on to the afterlife and wait to be reincarnated."

"Cool, cool. So how do I pass on?" I ask, impatient. I wasn't sure what the term "after-life" entitled, but hopefully it just meant being asleep.

"You will not pass on yet."

"What?" I puff out my cheeks, frustrated. "Why not?"

"You will become a Guardian."

"What the hell is a Guardian?"

"When a person dies, they can pass on. Unless their soulmate is still alive and is in danger of their fate being snatched from them. In that case, the soul is made into a Guardian. Someone who will stay by their soulmates side, making sure that they reach their ultimate fate."

"So like a Guardian Angel?"

"Exactly."

"Well count me out," I say, shaking my head. I cross my legs in front of me, resting my elbows on my knees. "I have no desire to babysit my soulmate for the rest of my life."

"Even if he is in danger? Would you leave him to suffer like you did?"

The words stir up the memories of my last moments: the pain in my skull as the bat collides with the side of my head, the blood staining my hair, the vacant look in my eyes as my life left me. I try to think of that happening to someone else and shudder at the thought. I cross my arms, "Fine. I'll do it."

A piece of paper floats in front of me, a quill pen appearing in my hand. "Sign this then, please." I look at the paper skeptically, unsure whether I should sign it or not. Sighing, I shrug my shoulders. I mean really, I'm already only a soul. What's the worst that could happen? The pen glides over the paper as I sign my name. As soon as I lift the pen, it and the paper vanish as if they never existed. "Min Yoongi. Soul Status: Guardian. Case number: 3993-21894. Mate: Jung Hoseok. Mission Goal: Protect your mate. Mission Commencing."

I feel my body growing lighter, the feeling a bit unsettling. I look down, surprised to see my limbs slowly disappearing. I lift my hand, watching in awe as inch by inch it fades away, becoming transparent before disappearing entirely.

"Before you go," the voice says, interrupting my gawking. "You would be wise to not grow too attached to your soulmate, Yoongi. Don't forget where you two stand. The dead and the living shouldn't mingle together."

"Nothing to worry about there," I scoff. "It's not like he'll be able to see me anyway."

"I hope you remember those words in the future."

* * *

"Everything was so different then," I say absently.

"Different or not, you would still be wise to heed our warnings. Growing closer will only make things harder in the end."

I sit quietly for a moment, my mind telling me that they're right. When this was all done and over with, I would leave Hoseok and pass on and he would continue living. In no version of this story do we end up together, so why get attached and just hurt us both more in the end? I know I should listen, but then I remember Hoseok's face when he came to his senses in the In-Between. I had been so desperate then, afraid that he would succumb to his injuries and die that I had accidentally entered his mind, something that I wasn't sure how I did and couldn't figure out how to do again.

"Yoongi!" Hoseok's frightened voice fills my mind, the hairs on the back of my neck raising at his tone.

I stand abruptly, my brows furrowing in concern. "Something's wrong," I whisper.

"Hoseok is fine."

"The hell he is!"

"Yoongi!" Hoseok's panic ridden voice once again hits me. I feel a tugging in my chest and a familiar lightness fills me as my limbs start to disappear.

"What are you doing, Yoongi?"

"I'm- I'm not doing anything." I watch my limbs fade slowly, wishing they would go faster. As if responding to my prayers, the speed doubles. "But I have to go. Hoseok's calling for me."

Everything goes dark as I'm swept away, Hoseok's cries playing on repeat in my head.

I'm coming, Hoseok. Just wait for me.


	8. Chapter 8

I stare at the empty space in front of me, the same place Yoongi sat just moments ago, loneliness sweeping through me. My apartment, once homey and comfortable, feels foreign to me now after so much time away. Sighing, I push myself up from the ground, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

I move through my apartment, tossing my bag on my bed before going through the motions of a normal life: eating, showering. But I can't seem to tear my mind from the blonde boy that disappeared from in front of me. Where did he go? Why did he look like he didn't want to go?

Sighing, I sit on my bed, the springs creaking under my weight. I pull my bag on my lap, knowing that I should unpack it. But I can't seem to find the motivation. Instead, I feel exhausted. I have barely done anything, but my body feels like I haven't slept in days. I toss the bag to the floor, ignoring the thud it makes. Laying back, I promise myself that I'll take care of it later. I close my eyes, letting sleep take me.

* * *

Darkness surrounds me, pushing in on me from all sides. "Hello?" I call, spinning slowly as I try to get a hint of where I am. My pulse races, the sound of my heart pulsing in my ears. I jump as a light flickers on in front of me, illuminating a familiar scene.

Yoongi sits at his desk, frozen as his eyes squint at the monitors in front of him. My breath catches at the sight of him and I wonder how he can still shockingly handsome even with disheveled hair and droopy, tired eyes. I take a small step closer, intrigued. I had seen this whole thing before, every night for weeks. But never from this position. Never as an onlooker. I had always been in Yoongi's spot, living through this moment. Standing here, looking on from the outside, makes the experience completely different.

I take another step in, my eyes tracing the details of Yoongi's face - the pout that never seems to leave his lips, his squishy cheeks, the bags under his eyes. This isn't real, I know that. But in this moment, with him sitting right in front of me, Yoongi seems so alive. As if I could just reach out and touch him.

I take a few steps toward him, unable to fight the urge to see him up close. I freeze as a shadow flits outside the door, distorted by the glass. I narrow my eyes, trying to focus, but all signs of the shadow are gone. It could've just been a play of the light, but I have a gnawing feeling in my stomach that that's not all it is.

The soft buzzing of the light cuts off as the power gives out, and I have to squint to make out anything in the room. I hear crashing and I know that Yoongi is searching his desk. His phone lights up, the glow of it casting a shadow of Yoongi on the ceiling.

A shadow moves behind Yoongi, catching my attention. But Yoongi remains oblivious, instead trying to turn on his monitor. "Turn around, Yoongi," I whisper. And he does exactly that, whipping around in his chair, to survey the room behind him. I know that he doesn't see anything, but I can't stop the hope that I feel bubbling in my chest. The hope that maybe we can change Yoongi's fate, that he doesn't have to die, even if it is only in a dream.

Yoongi stays true to the events of the night though, turning back to the computer in front of him. "No, no," I cry, running towards the room. No matter how much I run though, the room never gets any closer. It stays in the same place, as if taunting me, as I'm forced to watch a shadow rise up behind Yoongi, who stays oblivious to the danger lurking right behind him. "Turn around." I push my legs harder, faster. "Turn around!" The shadow moves, a tip of a bat coming into view as it enters the light of Yoongi's flashlight. "PLEASE, YOONGI! JUST TURN AROUND!" I yell, my voice breaking. My desperate please fall on deaf ears though, as Yoongi just sits there, helpless to stop his fate.

The air whooshes passed the bat as its swung. And though I want to look away, I find that I can't. I watch the bat as it collides with the side of Yoongi's head, the sound of it resounding in my head, as the hit sends him crashing to the floor.

A strangled cry rips from my throat as the shadow moves behind Yoongi's head, raising the bat up to strike once again. I want to cry out, to beg Yoongi to move, to save himself, but I remain silent, my body refusing to voice the thoughts I so desperately want to say. I clench my eyes shut as the bat swings down, unwilling to witness the blow that I know ends Yoongi's life. With each whack I hear, a bit of me shatters because now I know that this wasn't just a random killing. Yoongi wasn't just some person at the wrong place, at the wrong time. No-this was too planned out. The lights, the lurking, and the rage that fuels the swings that continue resound in my ears. For whoever did this - it was personal.

As the last hit rings out, my legs give way and I fall to my knees. Slowly I open my eyes, my heart clenching at the sight in front of me: Yoongi lays motionless on the ground, almost unrecognizable from his wounds. The carpet around him is stained a dark red, almost like someone spilled a bottle of wine. Unable to look at what remains of Yoongi anymore, my eyes drift to the culprit, who stills stands above him, weapon clenched in hand.

I watch in shock as the scene seems to brighten, as if the lights had turned back on. It starts at the feet: what used to be shadow now coming into view as black boots, the light reflecting off the leather. Dressed in all black, Yoongi's killer stand before me: his gloved hand still clenched around the bloody bat, shoulders heaving as they look down upon Yoongi's mangled body. My stomach drops as they turn toward me, the hairs on my arms raising as I feel a gaze on me, the weight of it suffocating me.

I look to his face, desperate to know who could do such a thing, but I'm only met with disappointment. His face remains cast in shadow. "Who are you?" I call out, pushing myself to my knees. They tilt their head to the side, watching me as I stalk closer. Whatever kept me from getting closer earlier seems to have disappeared. "Why? Why did you do this?" He offers me no answers though, he just continues to stare at me as I stop in front of him, now just an arms length away. "Who could do something like this!" I reach out to grab him, but my hand meets with nothing as he disappears, his outline wisked away like smoke in the wind.

My anger disappears and I'm left standing there, feeling strangely empty. I drop to my knees, not even caring that Yoongi's blood is seeping into my jeans. My eyes rake over Yoongi's still form, my sight blurring with tears. "Yoongi," I call softly, crawling over to him. Tears fall down my face, dripping off my chin to mingle with the blood that stains the carpet. I sit beside him, and attempt to pull him into my lap. A cry escapes me when a piece of his skull falls loose and I have to stop myself from gagging.

I pull him to me, laying what remains of his battered head in my lap. I wipe his hair from his face, the blonde locks matted with blood. "Yoongi." My tears fall onto his face, leaving tracks in the smears of blood. I pat his cheek softly, calling out to him. "Yoongi, come on." I don't know why I'm calling him. The top of the right side of his face is gone, the gore of it staring up at me. That should be enough evidence for me to know that he's gone, but I can't stop myself from hoping that maybe he'll open his eyes. Or at least the one of them that he has left. I pull his body to my chest, hugging him tightly as I sob his name over and over.

"Hoseok!"

I open my eyes slowly, my heart thudding as I see Yoongi standing above me, a concerned look written on his face. "Yoongi?" I ask, confused. "You- you were just-" I look around me, unsure whether I should be relieved or confused at the change in scenery. Yoongi's dead body and his bloody studio are gone. The blood splattered walls and stained carpets have been replaced with a scene of the park where I first met Yoongi. The park that I had gone to when I was in a coma.

The wind blows through the grass, the green blades swaying around me. They tickle my hands, which are no longer stained in blood. I bring my hands up, turning them in front of my face, amazed at the cleanliness of them. If I hadn't seen the mess they'd been before, I'd never have believed they had been stained red. I look back up at Yoongi, my heart swelling at the sight of him: alive and in front of me.

He furrows his brows, his eyes concerned as they look over my face. "Hoseok?" My eyes tear up at the way he calls my name, the gentleness in it. "Why are you crying?"

All I can think about is how, just a minute earlier, he was dead in my arms. And now he stands in front of me, seeming more alive than ever. I act on impulse, my body moving before my mind has the chance to shut the actions down.

I launch myself at him.


	9. Chapter 9

Yoongi lets out a small groan as I crash into him. My arms wrap around his shoulders, squeezing him to me. Burying my face in his neck, I breathe him in- the smell of orange blossoms and woods working to calm my nerves.

Yoongi's arms circle my waist slowly, as if he's unsure of how to handle this situation. "Are you okay?"

An image of him laying on the floor, his eyes staring blankly up at me, fills my head. A chill runs down my spine and I burrow further into his chest, desperate to push away the image.

Yoongi pulls on me softly, trying to pry me away from him. I squeeze tighter, stepping closer so we're chest-to-chest, no room between us. "Come on, Hoseok."

"No," I refuse, shaking my head.

Yoongi's chest brushes against mine as he sighs, his breath rustling my hair. "I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong." I shake my head again, unwilling to move even an inch away from him. "Okay, okay. When you're ready then." He hugs me tighter, his head dropping to my shoulder. His breath hits my neck, the feeling of it giving me goosebumps.

A breeze blows through the park, cooling my heated skin. My heart races, blood rushing to my cheeks. Trying to calm myself, I take deep breaths - but stop quickly as the feeling of Yoongi's chest against my own only makes my heart pound more. When I can't take it anymore, I pull away. Yoongi's lifts his head from my shoulder as I disentangle myself from him.

He stares at me, our eyes almost on exactly the same level. I search his face for any sign of injury, blood, or bruises-but there are none, his skin smooth and unblemished. Slowly, I raise my hand. His eyes never leave mine as I cup his cheek, his skin cool to the touch. I rub my thumb across his cheekbone, mesmerized by the smoothness of his skin.

He lays his hand on top of mine, holding it in place. His eyes wander over me like a caress, leaving goosebumps in it's trail. "Hoseok," "he says, his voice low. My heart clenches at the sound of my name, loving the way he says it.

"Mhm," I answer, dazed.

"Are you okay?" He continues to stare at me, waiting for me to answer.

That stare undoes me, pulls me in like gravity. I step closer to him, unable to help myself. "I'm always okay when you're here." My free hand moves up his shoulders, coming to rest on the back of his neck, my fingers tangling in the base of his hair.

With no idea what comes over me, I press my lips to his. The kiss starts softly, my lips barely a whisper against his. But after a few seconds, I lose control, pushing my lips harder against his. Yoongi stands there, frozen, his lips unmoving beneath my own.

I start to pull away, certain that I've made a mistake-that he doesn't want this. But Yoongi tightens his hold around my waist, pulling me back to him. His lips slam against my own, resuming where I left off.

A small groan escapes me, my body buzzing as he trails his fingers down my arm, leaving a raging fire in his wake. His hand tangles in my hair, tipping my face down. He nibbles my bottom lip, my lips parting as I gasp. Taking advantage of the opportunity, his tongue slips into my mouth, dancing with my own.

I may have started this kiss, but Yoongi has overthrown me, taking complete control. I'm putty in his hands, a mess of moans and pleased sighs as he leads me.

He pulls back, a whine escaping my lips at the loss of his kiss. It's soon replaced by breathy moans as his lips trace down my jaw and onto my neck, his teeth nipping at the skin there. I wrap my arms around his shoulder, my hands pushing into the back of his head, pushing him to me.

He smiles, a small chuckle leaving him. "You're so cute," he says huskily. His breath washes over my damp skin, sending chills down my spine.

"I am n-Ah!" I cry out as he bites me, pleasuring jolting through me.

He kisses his way back up my neck, reclaiming my lips. His hands slip under my shirt, cool on my heated skin. He grips my hips, his thumbs rubbing circles over the skin there. They move to my ass and I groan into the kiss as he squeezes.

He lifts me effortlessly, one of his hands guiding my legs around his waist. He grinds his hips against mine, both of us moaning at the friction. I move my hips, desperate for more. Yoongi grabs my hip, stopping me. I whine, fighting against his hold.

"You don't want to do that," Yoongi says into the kiss.

"Pretty sure I do," I pant, still struggling. Yoongi groans as I brush against him, a victorious smirk forming on my lips. I lean forward, my lips brushing against his ear as I whisper, "And I'm pretty sure you want me to do it." I kiss down his neck, sucking on the skin of his collarbone. I raise my head, pleased to see a small purple mark forming. I smile at the meaning of it: that Yoongi is mine, no one else could have him this way.

 _When did I start wanting this? For him to be mine and no one else's?_

I don't know the answer those questions, but I know one thing for sure: I've never wanted anyone the way I want Yoongi right now. My body fits around his like a glove, like we were meant to be like this, meant to be together.

I move back to his lips, kissing him again. But something is different. Yoongi's lips are barely moving, his earlier passion lost. I pull back, shocked to see the sadness in his eyes.

"What's wrong? Did I say something wrong?"

He shakes his head, sighing. "No, you didn't." He smiles sadly, sliding me down until my feet are once again touching the ground. "That's the problem." He steps back, putting space between us.

"What do you mean?"

"You were right. I do want this." He turns away from me. "And that's the problem." He walks away from me.

"Yoongi!" I yell after him. "Yoongi! Come back!"

He keeps going though, his body fading with each step until he's gone and I'm left standing there alone, my lips still tender from the intensity of our kiss.


	10. Chapter 10

Death looms over the bed, the shadows clinging to him like a second skin. He watches as the boy below him sleeps, a few stray tears tracking down his plump cheeks. He finds himself wondering why he's crying, what he could be dreaming about. Pushing the thoughts away, he chastises himself.

He didn't come here to ponder the inner workings of Hoseok's mind. He came here for one reason and one reason only: to rid himself of the threat Hoseok posed once and for all.

He hadn't wanted to do this, hadn't wanted to pull another person into this. His first kill was necessary, but this one-this was one that he hadn't anticipated. Gazing down at the boy before him, it was hard to think that he could be a problem. But Death knew different. Deep in the recesses of Hoseok's mind, whether he knew it or not, was the one thing that could endanger the peace he had so carefully sunk back into: knowledge.

The boy probably had no idea what it all meant or that the seemingly harmless dreams would be the one thing that would put him in harms way. It already had once, after all.

The car was supposed to take care of it. He hadn't wanted to get involved. Just one simple push and it was supposed to be over, taken care of. It could have been written off as Hoseok's own clumsiness or just a bump from some stranger on the street. No one would've had any reason to question how he had died. But it didn't work. So now here he was: standing over the boy, weapon clenched in his fist.

Hoseok whimpers in his sleep, a fresh set of tears running down his cheeks. Almost without thinking, he reaches out, catching one of the drops on his fingers. He studies it, admiring the way the droplet reflects the small stream of light that filters in the the window.

His attention is directed back to the bed when Hoseok shifts in his sleep, the springs in his bed groaning under the weight. His eyes follow the tears as they track their way down Hoseok's cheeks. He couldn't help but want to see more of them, to watched as Hoseok begged and cried for his life. Yoongi had been a disappointment, accepting what was going to happen and going quietly. He hadn't even called for help once. But Hoseok- he bet that he would cry, grovelling before him to live.

He doesn't want to kill Hoseok, doesn't want to dirty his hands like that again. But the image of the usually cheerful man, broken and begging before him sent a thrill through him. A small smile lifted his lips as he imagined how Hoseok would cry when struck, how the tears on his cheeks would mix with the blood flowing from his wounds.

It was a shame he wouldn't get to see it. That would require more time, and that was one thing he didn't have. Even now the moon crept lower in the sky, pressuring him to do what needed to be done. Sighing, he tightens his grip on the bat in his hands.

He raises the weapon, ready to swing down-

"What do you think you're doing?"

He lowers the bat and turns, meeting the brown eyes of his Guardians.

Jungkook and Taehyung stand in the corner, their arms crossed in front of their chests as they glare at him disapprovingly.

"We talked about this. No more killing. We couldn't stop you before, and that poor boy paid the price for that," Taehyung chastises, his eyes dropping when he mentions Yoongi.

"Hoseok hasn't even done anything to you. He is innocent. He doesn't even know who you are or anything about you. How could he be a danger to you?" Jungkook places his hands on his hips, trying to rationalize with him.

They didn't understand. They couldn't see it, but he could. Where they saw a helpless man sleeping before him, he saw danger. Danger that everything could come crashing down, that his atrocities would come to light. Sure Hoseok didn't know him, but if left alone, he could. And that was a risk he couldn't take.

He raises the weapon once again-

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" A deep voice asks from behind him.

He turns slowly, a cruel smile spreading across his face as he sees the person standing there.

"I asked who you are?" Yoongi says, glaring at him.

"You already know," is all he says, his voice a quiet growl in the dark room.

He turns, walking away, the bat dragging on the ground behind him.

"Show me your face!" Yoongi calls after him.

He ingores the ghost's pleas, exiting the apartment. He should feel disappointed that he didn't carry out his mission, but he couldn't. He didn't get to kill Hoseok tonight, but that just meant he could do it his way.

He smiles as he once again imagines Hoseok's tears stained face, his voice cracking when he cries for help.

He couldn't wait.


	11. Chapter 11

I open my eyes to Yoongi's face hovering very close to my own.

"Jesus!" I yell, sitting up quickly. I rub my eyes, trying to wake myself up. "What are you doing?"

"Are you okay?" He asks, his face scrunched up in worry.

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" I stretch my arms out, showing him my lack of injuries. "Well except for my ego, of course." I say, pouting.

He rolls his eyes at me, sitting on the bottom of my bed. "You'll be okay."

"Why'd you leave?"

"I had to," he says, looking away from me.

"The hell you did," I scoff, crossing my arms across my chest. "Do you not like me? Is that what it is?"

"No that's not-" he sighs, running his hands through his hair-something I've noticed he does when he's flustered. "Us getting close isn't something we should do, Hoseok."

"Why?"

He looks at me incredulously. "I'm dead, Hoseok. I'm a ghost. I can never give you a normal life. I can't even touch you." He reached out, his hand passing right through my arm. "You should be with a normal person."

"But I want you. And we touched last night. So why can't we touch right now?"

Yoongi sighs, drawing his brows together. "I can't think of any explanation other than it was because we were inside your head. In your dreams, things aren't the same as they are out here in reality."

I smiled, leaning back against my headboard. "Then we can make it work."

Yoongi groans, laying down beside me. "We can't, Hoseok. I'm not always going to be here. What do you think happens when my mission is done?"

I freeze. I've never actually thought about what happens when Yoongi finishes whatever it is he was sent to do. "What's you mission anyway?"

"I'm not telling you."

"What? Why?"

"Cause I'll deal with it. You just live your life. You never would've known I was here anyway. So I'll do my job and then when it's done, I'll leave and you can go back to your normal life."

I get out of the bed, glaring at him. "Is that all I am to you, Yoongi? A job?" The rational part of me said that I was being ridiculous, that I should know that Yoongi didn't think that way about me. But I was hurt and chose to ignore it.

"You know you're more than that to me, Hoseok." He sits up, meeting my eyes. "So much more."

"I know," I sigh, sitting back down on the mattress. "Yoongi, does your mission have to do with the way you died?" He freezes and I know I'm on the right track. "You never talk about it. But I know. I know how you died."

"How?"

"For weeks I dreamed about the death of some stranger. I lived it as if I was you. The power outage, the pain, the darkness. I just thought I was going crazy." I looked to him, smiling. "Then I saw you for the first time while I was asleep."

"I was a little surprised that you seemed to know who I was," Yoongi says.

"Well I was a little surprised to see the person I'd been dreaming about for weeks," I laugh. "So I guess that makes us equal." I lay back, flopping onto the mattress. I turn my head, looking at him, taking him in. The same outfit he always wears: a black hoodie that swallows him and skinny jeans, his blonde hair that always looks like he just woke up. "You were murdered, Yoongi."

"Yeah, I was," he says, somberly.

"I'm in danger, aren't I?" He nods his head. "Me being hit by the car wasn't an accident, was it?"

He shakes his head, staring down at my green bedspread. "It would appear that way. I was called away yesterday to talk about your case. That's when I learned that it wasn't an accident." He looks to me. "Are you okay?"

"Well learning that someone's trying to kill me does kind of suck." I smile at him. "But I trust that you'll keep me safe." A knock sounds at my door. I sit up, giving Yoongi one last smile before going to open it.

Jimin stands outside my door, his face lighting up when he sees me. "Hoseokie!"

"Jiminie!" I cry, opening up my arms to him. He moves into them, squeezing me tight. "Are you ready for breakfast?" He nods eagerly and follows me to the kitchen.

I make our usual pancakes, sitting a stack down on the table for Jimin and I to share. I catch a glimpse of Yoongi standing in the corner and he gives me a small nod.

"Did you have the dream again?" Jimin asks, his mouth full of pancakes.

I scrunch my nose at him. "Don't talk with your mouth full."

He rolls his eyes at me, making a show of swallowing and opening his mouth wide for me to see that it was empty. "So? Did you have that dream again?"

I move the last few bits of my pancakes around. "Not the exact same one."

Jimin sits forward, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

I drop my fork, sitting back in my seat. "Well you know I usually see it from Yoongi's perspective."

"Who's Yoongi?"

I freeze, realizing my mistake. I've never called him by name before.

Jimin watches me, his eyes narrowed slightly. "Who's Yoongi, Hoseok?"

"Oh, um, I googled the details of the dream. And found news about it. Apparently his name was Yoongi."

Jimin sits back, crossing his arms in front of him. "Ohhhh, so it was real?"

I nod my head, "Apparently he was murdered in his studio. No one knows who did it though."

"That's horrible. I can't believe a murderer is still out walking free." Jimin shudders, squeezing his arms tighter.

"Right?" I shake my head. "It's crazy."

"So what was different about this dream?"

I see Yoongi drift a little closer, interested in the course of our conversation. "I wasn't watching it from his perspective this time. I was watching it from outside. So I saw everything."

"How was it?"

"What kind of question is that?" I ask, giggling. "Obviously it was scary." I shake my head at him. Jimin was usually so timid, but certain subjects got him really interested. "Anyways," I plop a piece of pancake in my mouth, "You're spending another breakfast here instead of Taehyung's, huh? He's going to get his feelings hurt."

Jimin's face drops. "Hoseok." I look to him, surprised by how serious he sounds. "I couldn't figure out how to tell you..."

"Tell me what?"

"Taehyung and Jungkook..." A tear escapes, trailing down his cheek.

My stomach drops. I know this can't be good news. "What is it? Tell me, Jimin!"

"They're dead."

Time seems to freeze around me. The sounds around me fading to a distant echo. "What?"

"They're dead, Hoseok. It happened while you were asleep." He sucks in a ragged breath, more tears escaping him. "It-it was a fire. Jungkook tried to save Taehyung...but in the end they both died. I'm so sorry," he sobbed, breaking down.

I can feel the tears tracking down my face, dripping to mix with the syrup on my plate. I don't know how long we sat like that, Jimin sobbing while I cried silently, both of us grieving for our friends. But eventually Jimin left, excusing himself while I still sat in my chair.

Even after he was gone, I sat there, my pancakes long forgotten in front of me.

When the sun disappeared outside, Yoongi approached me. "Hoseok," Yoongi says, his soothing voice in my ear. "You need to get up Hoseok. You can't sit in this chair forever."

"O-okay.." I stand, my legs shakey. He walks beside me, his presence comforting.

I lay down in my bed, Yoongi laying beside me. "D-do you think I could see them?"

"I don't know," he says quietly, afraid to start my crying again. "If they became Guardians and you get close to their person while they're out, then maybe."

"Do you think they became Guardians?"

"If someone close to them needed help, then they would've."

"I hope they did," I say, my eyes dropping closed. Exhausted from all the crying, I started to drift off.

"I'm sorry, Hoseok. But I hope not."

I didn't even get to ask him what he meant before I was swept under, sleeping pulling me into its depths.


	12. Chapter 12

I open my eyes to the familiar sight of Taehyung's apartment, though now the lavender walls do little to soothe my frazzled nerves. As I stand there, taking in the plush furniture, the happy photos on the walls, all I can think of is how it's never going to be like this again.

I walk forward, taking one of the pictures from the wall.

Taehyung and Jungkook's smiling faces peer up at me from behind the glass, their eyes filled with so much life. I remembered the story behind this picture, as Taehyung loved to tell it every chance he got. It was their one year anniversary and Jungkook had spent weeks preparing for it. A trip to the amusement park, a candle lit dinner in the park-it was everything Taehyung had ever wanted.

I wonder if this picture, or any of the pictures in this room, survived the fire.

Or did they perish-just like their owners?

"Hobi."

I freeze, the picture in my hand clattering to the floor. Closing my eyes, I try to swell the hope that's rising in my chest.

 _It's just a dream. Not real._

"Hobi, it's me."

 _Not real. Not real. Not real._

"Give him a second. He's probably freaking out."

I whip around at the sound of the second voice, my blood freezing in my veins as I see them.

"Taehyung... Jungkook..." I whimper, tears pricking my eyes.

Tae gives me a sad smile. "Hey," he says quietly, giving me a small wave. "It's good to see that you're awake." He chuckles. "Or sleeping, I guess I should say. The last time we saw you, you were-"

"In a coma?"

He beams at me, his blonde hair falling into his eyes a bit. "Yeah."

"I just found out about you guys," I say, my eyes dropping to the ground. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"Don't worry about it," Jungkook says, finally choosing to enter the conversation. "I knew when I ran in that I might not come back out alive." I look up to see him gazing at Taehyung lovingly, his eyes caressing his lover's face. Both smiling despite the fact that they were talking about their demise. "But I couldn't just let Taehyung suffer alone. If death was going to come for one of us, then it was getting both of us."

I watch them for a moment, my heart swelling in my chest. I was glad to see that even death hadn't ruined their spirits or their love for one another. I couldn't believe I was talking to them. But that also posed the question of whether this was real or not. Was I really talking to them or was this just a projection of my grief?

"Is this real?" I ask hesitantly, not really sure which answer I wanted.

Taehyung nods, his face darkening. "Sadly, yes."

"We've been trying to talk to you for a while..." Jungkook starts.

"But you always seem to be heavily guarded," Taehyung laughs, finishing the thought. "That's one protective spirit you have there, Hobi."

"You mean Yoongi?"

"Hmmm," Jungkook tilts his head. "You're not supposed to know his name." He watches me curiously. "Care to explain?"

"It's kind of a long story," I say, scratching the back of my head. We were friends, right? Then why was I so reluctant to tell them my story of Yoongi?

Cause you're selfish and want to keep him to yourself...

I push the thought away, forcing a smile on my face. "Are you sure you want to hear it?"

Tae gives me his signature boxy smile, his face lighting up. "We love stories."

They walk passed me, settling down on the couch, their arms wrapped around each other as they watch me expectantly. I sigh, sinking into the plush, black cushions. How many times had we done this exact same thing? But this was different. Everything was different now.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," I sigh, before launching into my story. I tell them about the dreams, which earns me a scowl from Taehyung as he realizes I'd told Jimin but not them, then move onto my coma and the way Yoongi seemed to be responsible for waking me up, about being able to see him when I woke up, and about the dream I had last night. Their faces darken when I bring up Yoongi's murder and how I had almost caught a glimpse of the culprit's face.

They exchange a glance, Jungkook giving Tae a small nod.

"Hoseok," Tae says quietly. "That's what we're here for."

"What do you mean?"

"When we died," Tae gnaws on his bottom lip, "We were asked to be Guardians. To try and change someone's fate."

"Whose fate?"

Jungkook shakes his head, averting his gaze. "We can't tell you." He meets my gaze once again, his eyes blazing. "Trust me, I wish we could. I wish we could save you from the danger you're in. But we can't," he says, his voice dropping lower on the last sentence.

"So we've been trying to contact you," Taehyung starts again, his hand tracing circles on Jungkook's thigh. "We wanted to warn you."

"About the danger? I already knew there was someone after me," I say, waving their warnings away.

Taehyung scowls, little creases appearing between his brows. "While you may be aware of the danger. You're not aware of how close it is."

"What do you mean?"

"It's soon, Hoseok. You need to figure this out."

"Figure what out?"

"Who the killer is, obviously," Jungkook scoffs. "He's never going to stop, Hoseok. He sees you as a threat and as long as you live, he'll keep coming."

"A threat?" I stand, throwing my hands up. "I don't even know who he us! How can I possibly be a threat?"

"You know, Hoseok." Taehyung says, standing slowly and placing his hands on my shoulder's. His gaze burns into my own, as if trying to force me to remember something. "It's in your head, you just need to figure it out."

"How?"

He gives me a sympathetic smile, ruffling my hair a bit. "Yoongi is your biggest clue right now, Hoseok. He's-" His form flickers, cutting out like a television station in a storm. Jungkook approaches from behind, his own outline wavering.

"Time's up, Tae."

Tae's hands drop from my shoulder's, a sigh breaking from his lips. "I know."

"What's going on?" I ask, panic rising in my chest.

Tae meets my eyes, his face fading more by the second. "He's awake." He gives me a small smile. "See you later Hobi." He turns and grabs Jungkook's hand.

"Wait!" I yell, reaching out towards them. "Don't-" they're bodies blink out as if sucked into a black hole, leaving me alone "-go."

I open my eyes, my white ceiling stretching out above me. I sigh, rubbing my eyes. Soft breaths sound from the space beside me. I turn towards them to see Yoongi there, his eyes closed as he sleeps. He looks so peaceful that I debate whether or not I should really wake him. But then Tae's words come back to me.

Danger was looming. And this small man beside me was my only lead as to how to stop it from swallowing me whole.


End file.
